Lewis was sat in an interrogation room for quite some time with Hobson's solicitor friend Marcella Mowry by his side. After what seemed like aeons, Chief Superintendent Moody walked in.

"Good afternoon, Lewis."

"Sir."

"I'll have you know that you are well liked here, Lewis. Peterson and Gray can't seem to wrap their brains around the evidence, Lewis- evidence that points to you. So I am here myself."

The two men stared at each other at length. Moody pursued a thorough line of questions, trying to chisel away at Lewis' façade of calm.

"Were you having an affair with Louise Cornish?

"No, committed relationship, me." Lewis said.

"Dr Hobson will confirm that you were the one she'd had sex with before she died."

Lewis exchanged a bemused glance with his solicitor. Apparently, the new Chief Superintendent doesn't know who I am in a committed relationship with. Lewis thought to himself.

Moody misread Lewis' glance at the solicitor and continued, "Jack Cornish believes that you and Louise were intimate."

"Jack Cornish is not a reliable source. Go ahead, I'll offer you a cheek swab," Lewis called Moody's bluff. Moody decided to change tactics.

"You're angry, aren't you, Lewis? Angry that we are holding you here. Angry that I don't believe you."

"I'm not angry; you're investigating my friend's death and I want you to be thorough." Lewis was confounding Moody with his stoicism. "I will say it again. I did not kill Louise Cornish."

Moody stood up. "Interview suspended." He left Lewis and Mowry alone again for several hours. Lewis could feel the stubble growing on his chin. Soon, he knew that Moody would either have to let him go or charge him.

Truth be told, Moody was right about something: Lewis was angry. He was livid that Jack Cornish was able to play the grieving widower to bend the truth. Jack didn't love Louise; he wasn't devastated the way Lewis had been when he'd lost Val. If anything, Louise's death presented new opportunities to Cornish.

When Moody returned, he again tried to force a confession from Lewis. "Look Lewis, the forensics are back. Your fingerprints are all over her home and the murder weapon."

"I've already explained how I visited her and how my wheel brace went missing."

"But your prints are even on the dish soap dispenser. You were clearly tidying up after the crime."

"No, Louise and I are old friends. We had tea; I helped her wash up after."

"I find that odd, Lewis."

Lewis shook his head. He remembered how he used to wash Morse's dishes as a sergeant. "No good deed goes unpunished, I guess."

"Enough. Robert Lewis, I'm arresting you for the murder of Louise Cornish."


Lewis found himself thinking of Morse again when he was alone in his cell. Morse too had once been framed for murder. Looking back, he could almost understand how someone as enigmatic as Morse could run afoul of the Masons and have a nemesis like Hugo de Vries. But Lewis himself? He didn't have enemies. He was sure that he was collateral damage of the connivance of Joe Moody and Jack Cornish. Now he could only hope that Hathaway would come to his rescue as he had once tried to save Morse.